Vampire Elite (3 page)

Now, the grief that had consumed him had been replaced by rage. His need to avenge Istara’s death and inflict agony and terror on her murderers was so powerful he could feel it pulsing in his fangs. But, as the humans said, revenge was a dish best served cold, and he had centuries to prepare for that.
 

He needed to think of the more immediate future. Although he could still feel Istara’s Gift of Ra glowing within him, it would diminish over time without her blood to replenish it. And Istara had been right: that would be a problem. Vampire kings did not resign or retire. They were challenged to physical combat by competitors—and eventually, they lost. The younger generation of Sekhmi were powerful and extremely ambitious, and those who challenged Tor would find ways to enhance their powers, so while Tor could best any living vampire in a fair fight, he would need to supplement his native strength in order to keep the crown. And Istara had been right: the Gift of Ra was the best weapon he could possibly have.
 

Thanks to Istara, locating Arianna, when the time came, would be easy. The challenge would be the blood-bond. Although vampires initiated the blood-bond and benefitted from it—or at least Sekhmi did, now that they’d made it illegal for the lower-caste, mixed-blood Nightwalker vampires to do so—it was Amiti who controlled it. Most importantly, it gave Amiti the power to kill the Sekhmi with whom they blood-bonded by consuming them with fire. To blood-bond with the young Queen meant surrendering his life to a girl who would consider Tor, the vampire King, her eternal enemy. She might even welcome the chance to blood-bond with him, viewing it as the easiest way to destroy the most powerful oppressor of her people.

Chapter 2

Hunter headquarters, Venezuela
Twenty years later
 

Simone usually loved traveling by helicopter, but this time the ground rising to meet them wasn’t giving her the usual thrill, but more a sense of ... vertigo. In fact, though she’d never have admitted it to anyone else—and was barely willing to acknowledge it to herself—she felt a little sick.
 

At twenty-two, she was en route to her first Amiti bloodstock auction. It was a rite of passage for young vampires, marking the transition to adulthood—and with it the transition from being, for all intents and purposes, a human child, to being
vampire
. Simone had only recently begun to require blood, and today she would see firsthand how the stock that provided that blood was acquired.

Like art auctions or other events involving the exchange of massive amounts of money and the most high-end of luxuries, bloodstock auctions were glamorous affairs, opportunities to see and be seen. Today’s auction was exclusive even by those standards, with only the top families from among the Vampire Elite invited to participate, and only the most exquisite of Amiti product being offered for purchase.
 

And therein lies the problem
, Simone thought.
 

Although she’d been raised among vampires,
as
a vampire, Simone was half Sekhmi and half Amiti. And because humanlike immortal children were indistinguishable from their human counterparts, she’d spent her first twenty-one years, before her teeth started to ache and her fangs to grow, utterly clueless as to whether she’d end up taking after her vampire father or her Amiti mother. Utterly clueless, and utterly terrified that she’d turn out
wrong
. She knew that she’d be loved and protected either way, but the idea that she could become what her loved ones most despised—what they
ate
, for fuck’s sake!—was so dreadful as to be beyond comprehension. And yeah, although they’d have denied it, she’d glimpsed the worry in their eyes when, at nineteen and then twenty, she didn’t have fangs, even though they weren’t to be expected that early. It was still possible that she’d develop some Amiti characteristics, but fangs and blood requirements were so central to vampires’ physical and social traits that they’d been her main concern, and her main relief.

But now she was about to face a new test. Although she indirectly experienced Amiti every time her family enjoyed their cocktails of Amiti blood, she’d never actually seen Amiti bloodstock in the flesh, so to speak, and so their existence had remained an abstraction. Would she suffer from some kind of humiliating connection to them? Or worse, identification with them?

Sekhmi reveled in their superiority over Amiti, their sense of triumph at having confined significant numbers of them and relegated them to bloodstock, and auctions were an opportunity to collectively bask in that accomplishment. Simone wanted to share their sense of celebration so badly, it seemed as though she’d never wanted anything more in her life.
 

As the helicopter touched down on the Hunters’ private estate in northern Venezuela, Simone shoved away her ambivalence and committed to enjoying the party.
 

Disembarking, she joined Theores and Leon outside the circle of the helicopter’s draft, to wait while the pilot, Odji, one of Tor’s adopted sons and Simone’s personal bodyguard, powered down the helicopter. She took the opportunity to collect herself, arrange the folds of her exquisite sapphire-blue gown, and review her strengths. She knew she was beautiful—it wasn’t vanity, just a fact—and she looked especially fantastic tonight, bedecked in full formalwear, makeup enhancing her full lips, deep blue eyes, and porcelain skin. And she was smart, well educated, wealthy, sophisticated; she was literally a princess, but even without that status she’d have made a damned fine impression.
 

And she was with some of her favorite family members. The Elite defined family differently than most human societies. Prides, as they called them, usually consisted of five to twelve members connected to each other by ties of blood, but also friendship. Pride members lived together and owned common wealth and property: real estate, bank accounts, businesses, helicopters—and bloodstock. Pride loyalty was among the Elite’s highest values, and because pride members always had each other’s backs, prides made Sekhmi feel invincible. Simone, Theores, Leon, and Odji were all members of the Royal pride, the First Family among the Vampire Elite on the basis of power and wealth.

The Hunters probably ran a close second, Simone thought as she surveyed the estate. It was magnificent. Grecian sculptures lined the driveway and entrance to the main house—currently unused, since all of today’s guests seemed to be arriving by helicopter. In addition to the main residence, she could see guesthouses and other outbuildings, tennis courts, and horse stables. Closer to the main house, an Olympic sized swimming pool glowed with four fountains shooting colored streams of water twenty feet into the air. The house and pool were ringed with gorgeous Italian tile and perfectly maintained landscaping
 

The group made their way to the swimming pool area, where thirty or forty guests mingled, men sleek in tuxedos, women glowing like jewels in designer gowns. Simone recognized most of them from other social events. Scanning the group, she realized with a sudden flare of self-consciousness that as far as she knew, she was the only one who’d never been to an auction before.
 

As they approached the main party, they were intercepted by servers carrying trays of Pink Sunset, a cocktail of champagne and Amiti blood, arranged in hues ranging from pink to red, the colors reflecting the drinks’ blood concentration. Simone selected a flute in a dark pink shade and joined a group of younger males she knew could distract her with their casual chatting and flirting. Gradually her confidence blossomed again at their easy, attentive repartee.
 

After about an hour, the guests were escorted into the main house and into a spacious room lit by an enormous multi-tiered crystal chandelier. A stage rose at the far end of the room, tables and chairs surrounding its perimeter. A row of flickering candles lined the stage, lending intimacy and mystery to the atmosphere. Simone, Theores, and Leon took the table at center stage; the Royal pride was always extended the courtesy of prime seating. Odji remained standing at the back of the room next to the door with the other Sekhmi bodyguards. Waiters flitted around serving drinks and hors d’oeuvres.
 

Leaning back in her chair, Simone scanned the room. Her eyes landed on an especially attractive male dressed in an Italian-cut dove-grey business suit, and she smiled at him seductively. He smiled back at her, winked, and then stepped up to the stage. One of the Hunters, Simone realized as he strode over the podium. The Hunter pride had earned their incredible wealth through their monopoly on the extremely lucrative business of tracking, capturing, and selling bloodstock at auctions like this one.

As the Hunter adjusted his microphone, Simone’s confidence abruptly drained from her, replaced by her pulse pounding in her ears. She heard the man’s attractive baritone filling the room, and she was aware that he was outlining the terms of the auction, but she couldn’t focus on his words. Desperate, she fixed her gaze on the purely aesthetic pleasure of Theores’s dark maroon Pink Sunset and how it glowed slightly around the edges, backlit by the candles. Theores loved it highly concentrated; if Simone hadn’t been able to see the little effervescent bubbles, she would’ve doubted it had any champagne at all.
See
, she reminded herself,
it’s just Amiti blood, to be appreciated like any other beautifully presented delicacy.
She raised her own glass to her mouth as if to prove it to herself.

Taking up his gavel, the auctioneer announced, “Lot Number One. The blood will be offered for your examination.”
 

A thick velvet curtain at the back of the stage parted to reveal a large Sekhmi dressed in black leather and leading a small, cloaked figure. When they reached center stage, the Sekhmi stopped and removed the cloak.
 

Simone froze, her drink halfway to her mouth.
 

A frail, nude young girl huddled in the center of the stage, the candlelight casting shimmers of gold over her luxurious chestnut hair and smooth, flawless skin. She could only be described as exquisite: her breasts were small mounds, her waist slim, and her hips beautifully curvaceous despite her youth. She trembled with fear, her eyes lowered and hidden behind thick lashes.
 

Simone was suddenly aware that the girl was emanating an unmistakable, vibrating energy. Enchanting, magnetic, it washed over Simone like a warm rain.
Is this what they mean when they talk about the “natural attraction” between our species?
she wondered, and then was struck by another terrible thought:
or am I sensing my own kind?
 

That was a question she would never, ever be able to ask of anyone, even Theores, who was the closest thing she had to a mother. Forcing down her panic, she extended her senses to gauge whether the other gathered Sekhmi felt the energy, too.
 

Yes, all the guests were excited and thrilled, working hard to disguise their feelings under casual, relaxed postures. Theores and Leon looked to be entirely at ease, but the ostensibly indifferent bodyguards were especially obvious, devouring the girl with their eyes from the back of the room. A new awareness surged through Simone, of herself as Sekhmi and of her predatory Sekhmi instincts, which delighted in the subjection of the Amiti before her. Her people, she realized, kept bloodstock not only for blood but to satisfy their addiction to power, their drive to possess and dominate another immortal. Nothing was wrong with Simone; she felt what everybody else felt.
 

“Now, this delectable morsel,” the auctioneer was saying, “is the kind of bloodstock that comes along only once or twice in a century. She started shifting early; our trackers were able to locate and capture her right away, and—long story short—here she is for your pleasure.”
 

As the auctioneer spoke, two Sekhmi in evening-wear—a male carrying an elegant dagger, and a female carrying a silver tray covered with glass vials—approached the Amiti girl.
 

“She’s barely eighteen, ladies and gentlemen. That’s a good three years younger than the youngest bloodstock you’ll usually come across. Look at her; she’s stunning, simply stunning, and as you can see, we’ve kept her well conditioned, in excellent health.”

The auctioneer paused as the male Hunter grasped the Amiti’s hand and held it above the tray. The girl showed no resistance, her only display of anxiety the butterfly fluttering of her thick eyelashes. He raised his other hand, and the dagger flashed in the light as with a swift motion he slit the Amiti’s palm. The dark, intoxicating scent of fresh blood filled the room as it poured into the vials.

“And her blood is”—the auctioneer held his fingertips together and kissed them with a loud smacking sound—“
superb
, absolutely superb. Smell it, folks. It’s luscious.” He inhaled dramatically through his nostrils. “Are you getting that hint of lilac?”
 

Simone’s gums began to itch and burn, and she covered her mouth with her hand so no one would see her fangs punching down. It was considered terribly rude to expose one’s fangs in public, even among other vampires. But she needn’t have worried; everyone’s attention was riveted to the stage and the blood flowing from the girl’s wound. The room vibrated with bloodlust and sexual arousal.
 

“This is the good stuff, ladies and gentlemen. It’s blood you’ll want to serve when you break out your best champagne, at weddings, or straight up with a few associates, to celebrate a major business acquisition.”

When all of the vials were filled, the Hunter dropped the girl’s hand, leaving it dripping by her side to pool on the stage floor, flaunting the Hunter’s status through his waste of such a precious commodity. The female Sekhmi approached Simone’s table, offering the Royal pride the first of the blood samples. Leon, Theores, and Simone each selected a vial. Knowing that all eyes were on her, Simone forced herself not to hesitate and took a small sip—and was immediately flooded with euphoria.